A Dragon in Troy
by Xazz
Summary: A prophet claims a darkness is coming to the land. Evil come to consume the land. And apparently the only one who can save it is a lying paladin and his wise cracking dragon.
1. Chapter 1

*frustrated noises in the distance*

* * *

It was a dream she had fairly often. Lucy didn't try to fight the flow of the dream which was, as usual, leading her to a large hill on which grass grew to his shoulders and the remnants of old battles stuck out of the grass and dirt as broken spears or old, rusted, armor and bent swords sticking out of the ground. At the top of the hill were the remains of humans. A femur, an ulna, a skull, a set of finger bones scattered creeping from the tall grass. The human remains circled a large pomegranate tree with great, low hanging, fruit, each nearly the size of her head. Some had fallen from the branches and others had been ripped open, half eaten, the plump red seeds spilled across the ground.

Hanging from one of the higher, thicker, branches, was a swing made of bones and bow strings and on the swing sat a woman. She was voluptuous and had skin the color or graveyard dirt, her black hair was locked long to drag along behind her. She was swinging slowly, humming to herself, her dark feet were stained with pomegranate juice.

"Mesk," Lucy said when she finally stopped next to the woman, her patron goddess really. Mesk, the graveyard goddess who collected your fate strings when you died and if they sung when you died she'd weave them into a new fabric for your soul. Like many gods of death Mesk had a bad reputation of being evil. But she wasn't. She loved lovers and when two died, if the love was true, she bound them together to always meet again. "Mesk," she said again when the goddess seemed to ignore her.

Mesk slowly stopped swinging, "Hello sweetie," she said with a smile.

"You called me here?" Lucy looked around the hill at the scattering of weapons, armor, and old bones. She didn't particularly like Mesk's throne but she didn't really have much of a choice when Mesk called her, just like she rarely had a choice when Mesk took over.

"I did," Mesk said and was looking at her, Mesk's had selective heterochromia eyes, blue eyes, each with a red, vertical, band down the center. "There's a war coming princess."

Lucy's brow furrowed, "A war? But our kingdom is at peace now," she protested.

"Maybe in your kingdom. For now. But trust me, war is coming. I know. Don't forget who I am," Mesk said sternly.

"I couldn't forget," Lucy said. The graveyard goddess of war. "But what do you want me to do about a war? I've heard nothing, all our neighbors are at peace, even those who don't like us are friendly."

"Dark forces are moving, if you'd open your eyes, you'd see them," and Mesk looked away, down her hill. Lucy followed the goddess' gaze and saw snake-like shadows slithering among the tall grass. She swallowed and then a skeletal knight stood up, grabbing a sword from the ground and advancing on the snake. Mesk looked back at Lucy, "If the dark ones get what they want we're all done for babe," she said.

"And just want do you want me to do about this?" Lucy huffed, sometimes Mesk could play games. But now was not the time for games.

"Find this man," Mesk showed her a man in armor sitting atop a large, golden, dragon. "The dark ones want him. Through him they will consume the world and bring war and death to the entire land. All us death gods know this. A great tide of misery and death is coming."

Lucy frowned at the man in the air, "What do I do with him when I find him?" she asked Mesk.

"Keep him safe. He doesn't know the part he's going to play in this, he's an unwitting pawn. Find him, protect him. Simple," Mesk grinned, showing off her pearly white teeth.

"Right," Lucy took a deep breath to steady herself. From down the hill something shrieked and she looked. The skeleton knight had caught the shadow snake on his blade. "Easy."

When Lucy woke it was abruptly and with purpose. She rubbed her eyes, "Damn you Mesk," she muttered and rubbed her eyes. Lucy sat up in her grand bed and looked towards the window, the thick curtains were drawn but she could see new light coming through from under them. She got out of bed and went to her door. Down the hall were the guards, standing watch at a distance she'd fought for. "Sirs," she called.

They looked at her, "Yes, princess?" one asked.

"Send in my maid and tell my father I have an important message from my sister," and with that she closed the door, knowing the guards wouldn't question her orders, or even wonder who her 'sister' even was.

Warren looked up from his ledgers. Honestly, he didn't know why he didn't just entrust the bookkeeping to someone else. Probably because the majority of people he'd ever personally hired were painfully inept, and he certainly did not trust them with the treasury of an entire kingdom. The sound of armored knuckles on the other side of the great oaken doors gathered his attention.

Upon calling them in, he recognized the seal on their cloak brooches as Lucy's personal detachment - well, Warren had demanded she accept the small battalion of trained guards even though it was an unprecedentedly long peacetime. "So, there is news from my daughter?" The question was rhetorical, but he stood to receive it nonetheless.

As usual, though, the 'news' was nothing more than a notice that she had a message. He really hated that Lucy referred to that Goddess, that woman of rot, Mesk, like she was a relative. Sometimes, Warren hated that she was a vessel for her word, but she was still his daughter, and he would still rend continents if anything happened to her. Vessel for a creepy bone collecting deity or not.

He heaved a sigh as if the messengers' company was trying, "Let it be known I will postpone today's council until she sees me," and then waved them off. Warren did not sit again until the door closed. At least he could return to balancing books and continue to avoid the council. Honestly, the barons of his country were some of the most boorish men and women he'd ever had to cater to. Of course they were also the only ones - all of the little people would be dealt with by each of them. Nary a day passed though that he did not have to entertain complaints from coalitions beneath each baron

Once Lucy was dressed, as usual much to the distress to her poor maid, she headed off to find her father. She just asked her guards where he was and headed for his office in his apartments. Her guards followed some feet behind. She didn't know why her father insisted on this. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She knew it, he knew it, hell the entire kingdom nearly knew it. Their princess was no delicate flower and while she couldn't use a sword she didn't need to. She was plenty powerful without a weapon.

She knocked gently on his door before just going in, leaving her escort behind. "Good morning, father," Lucy said and bowed a little. Lucy had two brother and honestly she acted more like a prince than a princess. Warren and Helen might as well have had three sons instead of two and Lucy, as she wore men's clothes and didn't apologize for them. Usually when she wore dresses she accidentally set them on fire anyway. And yes it was always an accident!

"Lucy," he greeted her. Today wasn't one of the days where Warren cared much for the fact that she was not wearing a dress. As usual, the guards waited in the hall. He gestured to the chair across from the desk that was more of a small, heavy dinner hall table than actually a desk of any sort. "What did Mesk have to say?" he asked, glad at least that the Goddess had stopped delivering messages by possessing his daughter. Her language was absolutely uncouth and rather uncivilized.

Lucy sat as told, "She said war was coming- I know it seems ridiculous," she added because there had been no ill fated news from any of their neighbors in years. Really not since Lucy had been proved as an oracle of Mesk. No one wanted to mess with a graveyard goddess' oracle or the kingdom she'd decided was worth her protection. "But she told me 'the dark ones' were coming with death and destruction for the entire world," she frowned, "and war will engulf all the land."

"Did she impart a way to avoid the conflict? Or is this a warning to muster force? Either way there is much preparation to be done." Warren regarded his daughter with both hands folded on the desk.

"I don't know if it's to avoid, or simply to stall, but she showed me a knight on a golden dragon. She said that we- I?- needed to keep him safe, because the dark forces want him. For what I don't know, but she said it'd be very bad. That was all she said. Hopefully this dragon knight could help us," she added. She knew her father wouldn't take it well. Dragon knights only existed in one part of the world and were connected to a holy church. The only problem was… they didn't like Abstergonia that much. Dealing with them was difficult.

Although the church was located in the land of Troy, where his second wife came from, they were astutely separate from the royal family and government. While marrying Helen eased political tension, Warren still had to bank on the fact that the church only hated the cults of the dark arts that were rife in Troy. He still liked to think that Troy owed Abstergonia a favor for overthrowing the cult that had usurped the throne from within the royal family itself, but convincing the church was another story.

"I suppose Mesk wants you to go seek him out, then. You may leave behind your guards if you heed my only request. Daniel and Clay are to travel with you." Warren knew that nothing he could do would keep Lucy within his borders, especially since it was a goddess who imparted the quest to her. Not to mention that the goddess herself would probably be jaded about it if he sent a band of his own soldiers to do it. He hated sending his children off, especially if Mesk warned there would be a war despite the pleasant allegiances. It occurred to him that the conflicts might all be rooted with this one dragon knight.

"The less company you have, the better. And Clay deserves to see his mother's land." It was clear that it was meant to be a test for Clay, though. Not that his youngest was incapable, there were just less chances to prove one's worth these days.

Lucy had honestly been planning her plea on the way over here to get her father to let her go on this quest. She knew he was protective of her, his only daughter and the last child of his first queen; Beth. Not to mention her connection with Mesk. He didn't like her to leave the palace, let alone the city and forget the country. She'd expected to have to beg or simply disobey him. But that wasn't the case. He'd just given her his full blessing.

And she could live with the conditions. Her brothers were worth an entire squad of her guards. Clay was a powerful mage despite his youth, and Daniel was a knight of the highest caliber. She could have worse traveling companions even if Daniel had never really been the same since his betrothed vanished a few years ago. Angrier for starters. Lucy could handle Daniel though.

Her surprise was genuine at her father's words. "Really?" Lucy asked no shy side of excited. It meant she didn't have to disobey him to do what she had to do. Then she practically threw herself across his desk to hug him. "Thank you, father," and she kissed his cheek happily.

Warren almost laughed, and patted her shoulder. Usually he didn't tolerate this, but there were a few times where it was almost like she was a child again. If anyone thought he played favorites with his children though, the accusation would probably not be taken lightly or well. "Go prepare, I will send someone to let your brothers know, but I really must get to that council before the rich men think they can successfully hold a coup." He did wait until Lucy let him go of her own volition before standing.

Lucy let him go and made sure not to disrupt any of his papers. She straightened her shirt before dropping into a deep curtsy. She might prefer pants but she did know how to act like a lady and she knew her father liked when she acted like the princess she was. "We'll leave shortly. So that we may return sooner," she smiled. Then she left so her father could go deal with his advisors.

She practically ran back to her room. Her guards are the very least had to rush to keep up with her. Her maid was straightening up her room when she arrived. "Don't mind that," she told her maid. "Get me breakfast. I have a bag to pack."

"Are you going somewhere your highness?" her maid asked.

Lucy smiled a little. "I'm going to Troy," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Honestly, Desmond didn't understand why he'd even been allowed to become a paladin, nevermind a dragon knight. He'd been raised by the church - the only Church of the Dragon Priests there was - since he could remember, but then again, so were a lot of other boys and girls. Orphans, which the church welcomed and took care of because no one else would.

So he had been one of the few who were chosen by a newly hatched dragon when he was younger, though back then he was pretty sure it was because the tiny lizard wanted someone it could actually bully. And Desmond, who at the time refused to speak to pretty much anyone in the order, named it Apple. Because it was one of the five words he actually spoke, and it actually did have dull, reddish scales.

Aside from that, Desmond was a bit of a pathological liar, and was more often than not, in trouble with any number of the priests, or other members of the order. Stealing bread from the kitchen, pilfering from the donations box (even though they had replaced the locks more times than anyone could count), hiding valuables. At one point he'd even fenced the High Priest's talisman of binding.

He was also a bit of a dud when it came to magic of any class unless it came with a rather explosive accident. The majority of which no one spoke of after the fact.

Desmond's sticky fingers and disinclination toward magic wasn't the entire case either. On top of those, he had a bit of a fuse, and was known to be violent. Fists, candelabrums, chairs, whatever he could get his hands on if he was angry would be a feasible makeshift instrument to channel his aggression. It had come to a peak right about the time he turned fifteen, and they shunted him off to physical training because he was making no progress with the arcane.

Of course the boy picked a blasted warhammer as his weapon of choice, even when he was hardly strong enough to lift it. That had been almost ten years ago, and long since the time he'd stopped asking questions about his mother.

The knighting ceremony was a tedious one, as if the mile-long list of tasks the king and his advisor had given him wasn't tedious enough. The process for proclaiming him as a paladin was even longer, and Apple, who was a little bit too big to fit inside the usually impossibly huge nave, actually yawned - Desmond counted - thirteen times.

Now that had been two years ago, and still not much had changed. He was still sent to do tasks that required his… specialized skills, and aside from that, he still sought out and destroyed cultist camps that he could find or was directed to. And Desmond was still forced to sit through the priests' lectures and classes on the arcane arts because maybe he just hadn't figured it out yet. Though the last time he actually participated in the destruction class, he'd blown up the entire lab, and the High Priest simply gave him the talisman of binding to keep him from actually using magic. It didn't mean he could get out of the lectures though.

Apple was laying to one side of the lecture hall. Or rather his head was. His magnificent body couldn't fit inside any puny human building anymore. So he just had his head inside the side door. He didn't know why /he/ had to babysit Desmond while the stupid human had to take more arcane lessons. Even the lowest priest would see that Desmond wasn't any good with magic. At least not the kind they wanted to teach him. Humans were so stupid.

Of course Apple knew what sort magic Desmond would be good at. He was a dragon after all. The original users of magic along with the unicorns. Not that he could help Desmond though, human and dragon magic was like the sun and moon. And not that Apple would help him either. He knew Desmond would never do it. He was too much of a nice guy to use his real potential. Bit of an insane, bloodthirsty, lying, nobody; but a nice guy. Desmond's inability to do magic was only one person's problem: and that was Desmond's. Making Desmond use squeaky clean white magic was a mistake. That was one of the reasons Apple has picked him afterall. Of all the scared little boys around when he'd hatched Desmond was the only one not scared and the only one who looked like he'd be willing to do anything interesting.

Boy had Apple been wrong. On top of giving him the worst name in existence Desmond wasted his potential on trying to learn white magic.

Apple sighed, his neck straining against the door frame a little. It earned him a look from his rider who was sitting in the room with other would be paladins, all of them younger and more skilled in white magic than he ever would be. 'Don't look at me,' Apple said into Desmond's mind through their bond. 'I'm not the one who can't do simple white magic. Really you should just blow the entire place up. Would be much more entertaining!'

Desmond scowled at him, almost responding out loud. He was aware that he wouldn't learn anything through osmosis, just sitting through the lectures, but he couldn't even work with the inkling of magic he thought he could use with the talisman on - and the High Priest had forbidden him from taking it off, so his hands were more or less tied.

'I already blew up the other lecture room.' And if it was really dire, he didn't seem to have a problem protecting himself, ward or not. He still snorted though. It had been one of his best mess ups yet. The entire room was rendered useless and mostly cinders, while most of the others were a little toasty and a little singed, especially the priest's pristine white robes. Other than that, no one was hurt, but it had certainly been one huge explosion. He idly fingered the talisman.

That earned him a look from Brother Verulus at the front of the hall, and Desmond just shrugged. It wasn't that he didn't know the incantations or the mechanics of the spells, he just didn't have the spark. Or maybe he already had a roaring fire, but that wasn't going to work in any controlled environment without consequence. Desmond didn't really care.

When the lecture was over, he slipped out of the class before he could be called back. He and Apple had an assignment anyway, one that would take a few days' travel and a bit of research on-site. When Desmond had a chance to leave the cloister, Desmond made sure he was gone for the full extent of his leave.

Like most dragons Apple was rather quiet unless he needed to be. He yanked his head out from the door frame once the stupid class was over and trumpeted. Mainly he did it to piss off the stuffy priests who were there and who got upset when anything was too loud or out of order.

Everything about Desmond and Apple was out of order. As a baby Apple had been apple red, his name hadn't been so stupid back then (better than another dragon he knew who's rider had named her 'Green' because she was green). But as he'd gotten older he'd turned orange and then yellow and now at nearly a quarter of a century young he was same color as the golden coins people paid Desmond. Apple was very proud of his golden hide but he wasn't in order. Must other dragon knights had standard colored dragons; reds, blues, greens. No golden dragons would give away their eggs since they were so rare. Or that was the thought at least. Apple went against all the ideas about bonded dragons. Just like his rider who 'should' know white magic when really he was anything but a white mage.

Apple pulled his lips back from his big teeth when Desmond gave him a frustrated look sort of like a human smile. Apple enjoyed making Desmond's life difficult when he could. But Apple had picked Desmond for a reason. If Desmond ever showed any real fire to control him he'd obey since you needed fire to match Apple's stubbornness. Desmond was too easy going to do that though. 'I'm ready to go. Let's go dude, I wanna go,' and he leaned down to butt his head against Desmond's chest. As problematic and annoying and stupid and weak as his rider could be sometimes Apple did actually like him. Sometimes he even did things Apple approved of.

Desmond grunted when Apple headbutted him. "I need to get my things, I can't really smash any skulls without my hammer." He rubbed his hands over the scales on his snout, and grabbed the heavy ridge of his lower jaw. If he tried, he could actually shake Apple's head, but he settled for scratching at the somewhat softer scaled hide under his chin.

It didn't take him long, always traveling light. He hardly had enough things to even necessitate saddlebags for Apple even though the dragon could carry about as much as a horse drawn carriage. His hammer was probably the heaviest thing Desmond lugged around, and next to that, his armor, though it was really more like the bastard child of plate and leather armor. He didn't have the patience nor the need to feel like he had to dress up like the image of a knight. It was impractical, impeded his vision and mobility. He just needed his chest protected, and his arms so they wouldn't get broken.

Basically, he just needed to take enough of a beating to drop his forty pound warhammer on someone's head. And 'warhammer' was rather dainty a term. The thing was literally an oversized meat tenderizer, and was Desmond's pride and joy. Sure, he looked a little strange with the thing at his side nearly twenty-four hours a day, but it was also the only thing aside from the fact that he had a damn dragon with him, that was marked with the church's sigil.

He climbed onto Apple's back, settling between his wings, legs tucked. Desmond would have a better briefing once he was there. "Ready," he said.

Apple paced impatiently waiting for Desmond to show get his things. Apple knew realistically Desmond didn't need that stupid hammer but he never listened to Apple about that. He grumbled as he waited. On the other side of the area the church took up another of the few dragon knights landed. Apple called out to them and was pleased when they replied. The humans might not like Apple all that much because he constantly caused trouble along with his rider, but all the other dragons liked him.

Then Desmond was coming out and Apple dropped to his elbows so Desmond could climb up, attach his bag to the back of his saddle and strap himself in. Apple bugled and flared his wings when Desmond said he was ready. Then he jumped, leaving two sets of furrows in the earth from his claws on his back legs. That would piss those priests off for sure. He flapped twice to gain enough lift to somersault in the air and send him in the right direction. He knew Desmond liked the crazy stunts he pulled sometimes. He pulled their destination right out of Desmond's head and headed there as fast as good big wings could carry him.

Desmond leaned against the ridge of Apple's neck, looking down at what he could see of the ground far below them flash by. He warned him not to try and pull a landing in the middle of the woods they were actually suppose to be traveling through, he didn't really want to have to deal with scrapes and bruises on Apple's wings. They had to stop in a few towns and villages along the way anyway, even though it slowed them down substantially.

'Stop entertaining that dragon. She's even shallower than her paladin, and twice as stupid.' Not that Desmond was the brightest there was when it came to magic. 'And if you're allowed to have a say in who I'm catcalling, I'm allowed to have a say in who you're bellowing at,' Desmond shot at him before he could complain about it.

'At least she's prettier than the homely girls you like. Really as my rider you should have some higher standards,' Apple said as he dipped closer to the woods to almost let his legs brush the tops of trees. 'Get on my level and then we'll talk,' he hiccuped a little plume of smoke he was sure hit Desmond right in the face.

Desmond jabbed his heel into a joint between Apple's scales even while he was coughing against the smoke. 'At least I'm not playing around with… what was it, hoes?' Honestly, half of the language Apple spewed at him was outrageous. It didn't really matter though. He nearly killed anyone near him in the few moments before he was fully awake, and didn't really get attention from any woman after that.

Apple rolled in the air when Desmond jabbed him but knew his rider barely noticed. When you rode Apple you got used to his tricks. That or you fell off. Every person Desmond had let on Apple other than himself had nearly fallen off. Desmond was the only one to never do so. Apple was slightly proud of that.

'Skye is not a hoe,' Apple told him indignantly. 'She is a perfectly crafted creature given form by the dragon gods. Now Kaleera, she's a crazy bitch ass hoe who is ratchet as hell. Not even the honor of my gaze frankly,' Apple snorted in amusement.

Desmond didn't even ask what Apple meant, and he didn't want to know. 'I'm not sorry for naming you Apple.' He grumbled audibly. 'Hey, we need to stop there.' He tugged on one of the straps on the saddle to be sure he got the dragon's attention. Honestly, he was sure Apple did these kinds of things on purpose.

Apple banked sharply at Desmond's prompting and did another roll. He liked doing barrel rolls honestly. They were fun. At least he was going the right way so Desmond didn't complain really.

When he righted himself he tipped his wings back to catch the wind to come down for a slower descent towards a town that was officially out in the middle of nowhere. The people in the town looked up and pointed at Apple as he got near.

Apple landed with a flourish and a cloud of dust thrown up by his landing. 'Here we are, wherever the flying fuck here even is,' Apple snorted and a little bit of smoke came out. Not a lot. But enough to scare the little townsfolk. He sagged and dropped into his elbows so Desmond could dismount if needed. Apple had effectively just taken up the entire main part of the time with his greatness, his wings closed to fit in the small square. As it was his tail was snaked down the street.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Don't eat any children." He rapped his knuckles against Apple's scales, and then disappeared into what honestly looked more like a bar than anything else. When he came back out, he smelled suspiciously of alcohol, but he was nonetheless surefooted.

"You want to go poke around the woods now or take the rest of the day off?" Desmond didn't seem too rushed about it. It was a pretty routine kind of operation for him and Apple really. Apple identified the source or sources of dark magic, and Desmond just went in and laid waste to the cultists. It wasn't even really about killing people, which is what they were, but more like getting rid of vermin. Like one would trap and kill mice or rats. And Desmond had a penchant for smashing cultist skulls anyway, ever since the High Priest told him what had happened to his parents.

Only a few people approached Apple while Desmond was gone. Mostly children. Apple just snorted at them and groomed himself a bit while Desmond was gone. He growled a little when some children got too close. Apple only liked one person near him, and that was Desmond. Everyone else could fuck off frankly. He was a magnificent beast and only those worthy were allowed to touch him unless Desmond forced the issue. The growl made the children scatter.

'I didn't eat any,' he said proudly to Desmond when he reappeared, 'Though they made it very difficult,' and he flicked his tongue against his upper lip. It wasn't 'normal' dragon but all bonded dragons had habits they obtained from their riders to mimic humans in a way. At the very least some body language.

With a huff of a sigh he dragged himself to his feet, 'I suppose I'll go look in the woods,' he said like he was doing Desmond a favor. Honestly he was. He was a dragon damnit. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, and swung his hammer over his shoulders. "Go on then, I'll be following." Desmond would be able to see everything Apple saw, and honestly, he could use Apple's senses as his own, the dragon didn't have to run reconnaissance, but Desmond worked better this way. And if one tried to escape the little cultist den, he had backup in the sky. Usually it was only the last few, but if he was lucky, he could take out a group of three or four before they realized what was going on. Desmond still liked it better when they fought back.

It might have been a little out of place for him to whistle - a children's fairy tale tune, no doubt - while he watched Apple go, and then started toward the edge of the town himself.

With a snort Apple took off, throwing up a cloud of dust and little rocks, and banked towards the hilly forest they'd flown over. He could feel Desmond through the bond and didn't fight it. Desmond being there was as natural and easy and breathing.

Apple landed deep in the forest where the trees were old. Old as balls. Here was old magic that the first dragons and unicorns had tapped into millenia ago. Apple had been in pure forests like this, where the magic was so great it could keep someone alive without food for days, even weeks. It was a place without death. This forest was not as old or as powerful. It was also impure.

Apple could sense it as soon as he landed under the big trees. Dark wizards were here. They'd tainted the heartswood here and it made his crown of frills flare angrily. Dragons were creatures of pure magic. Sometimes destructive, but never evil. This black magic however /was/ evil. The cultists had to die. For the sake of this forest they had to die. He could sense other pockets of dark magic in the forest. But far away.

This was not the first forest they had been sent to cleanse. Old forests naturally created magic. Pure magic. The cultists had found a way to taint the heartswoods of the forest and make it a fountain of unnatural black magic. It tainted whatever it touched. Old trees that stood for centuries turned into gnarled trunks. New leaves never budded. Flowers never bloomed within a tainted heartswood.

They were here to make sure that didn't happen. And if it did Apple would never let Desmond live it down. A normal paladin could fight the blight and kill it if it had taken root. Desmond was incapable of ripping the dark magic out. Because he was magic stupid. If they failed some other paladin or dragon knight would have to come and clean up their mess. Apple's pride revolted against the very idea.

First, Desmond had to actually get rid of the cultists. Figuring out how to pull magic out of his ass to purify the woods would come second. If he ignored the cultists, they could go elsewhere and do similar things, and there were plenty of other cults to worry about. It didn't mean he ignored Apple's rage, though. 'Just show me where they are first,' he thought, spitting the words under his breath.

There was something buzzing at him when he reached the forest, and Desmond swatted at it. Bugs probably, there were always plenty where there were trees. He ignored them, and felt through Apple, where to go, and the further he went, the less he noticed the bugs, which made him a little less irritated.

Apple lowered his head to sniff the ground. Not nose to the ground like some dog, but lower because he was so great and majestic and tall but the scents far away and hard to smell. Apple inhaled deeply and smell the fresh taint of dark magic all around. It was too thick here, too concentrated. He headed in a random direction to try and find the source. Desmond was still a ways away. But he'd find the cultists by the time his rider arrived.

He slithered around great tree trunks and over big rocks, pacing back and forth in a grid to find where the cultists were hiding. No doubt they had wards up. It was no match for Apple though. He would find them, and maybe even eat them.

The bugs came back a few times, but Desmond was pretty close to Apple by then. "Find anything?" he asked, even though he was more or less completely privy to Apple's antics. He took a long, slow breath. The forest knew, and Desmond was pretty sure there was a deity connected to forests that were as timeless as this one, but he couldn't really remember the lesson, nor could he even speak with, much less channel one.

It was really strange not to hear any actual wildlife aside from the insistent buzzing. Apple didn't seem at all bothered by them, or notice them, really, so Desmond finally turned his attention to them, seeking out the source by himself. "Oh. Oh." Helpful little buggers, he supposed, but they were still annoying as fuck, and he didn't know where they came from.

He didn't have to tell Apple he'd found something, Apple knew. Desmond didn't touch the wards, not yet. He wasn't exactly attuned enough to see them, but he could feel them in the way the hair on the back of his neck rose, and he felt like his bones were a little jittery. It always sent a skin-deep shiver up his spine. 'Find the exits,' was all he said while he readied himself. The moment he crossed the ward, someone, if not all of them, would know they had been compromised.

Desmond never readied himself enough, but his brute tactic hadn't proved a catastrophic failure yet, and Apple always said you don't fix something if it ain't broke, so he didn't feel like he had a need to run through training like they said he should. He barreled through the wards, feeling the talisman rattle against his chest. There was nothing more satisfying than swinging the forty pound goliath that was his hammer to see her crunch bone. For reasons he never explained, he called the warhammer Alice, and Alice was always hungry.

When Desmond said he found something Apple launched himself off one of the big trees and barreled through the forest. They weren't ones for subtlety, neither of them were. Apple was a bright golden dragon. He couldn't be subtle if he tried. They'd hear him coming as he crashed through the trees. But he wanted them to know. Most people pissed themselves knowing a dragon was coming for them.

Dragons were connected to nature through magic. Their strength came from the very earth. Disrupting the natural essence of nature could send dragons into a rage where they destroyed and ate everything in sight until whatever had caused the taint was consumed. The cultists were chief perpetrators of tainting the land. Apple wouldn't fly off the handle, he could feel the bond between him and Desmond strongly, especially since he was much closer, and through it was Desmond acting as his rock. Desmond didn't know he was doing it of course. He was just focused on doing what he needed to do, but that focus was what Apple didn't have right now.

He reached the edge of the ward but veered off from hitting it. The ward was only a hundred or so feet in diameter. Apple started to stalk around the outside of the ward. If the cultists didn't know a dragon knight was there now they certainly did now. Smoke rose from Apple's nostrils without obstruction and every time Apple opened his mouth smoke poured from behind his teeth and little sparks of blue fire flew. 'Say when,' Apple's voice slithered like scales on rock into Desmond's mind. He paced around the circle of the ward, waiting for Desmond to let him go.

Desmond didn't take the time to actually think out an answer. Apple shared the moment Alice bit into the side of someone's skull and immediately dropped the sod. 'Eat them if they run,' Desmond reset his stance and continued moving through the partial cave, partial tunneled hideout. "I don't care," he breathed, probably a little more excited than he should have been when the next two he came across did not flee him, but decided the odds were somehow in their favor.

Just like that, there was movement erupting within the cultist hideout. Chaos and lots, and lots of blood. He thought he saw children in one of the darker corridors, and that was enough of a distraction for one slippery-fingered adversary to fit between Desmond and his warhammer. It was a knee-jerk reaction for him to avoid the wickedly curved dagger heading for his throat. His head hung for a bit, and before he realized that the talisman was caught, he'd dropped Alice and practically threw the man aside.

Desmond did feel that strange weight evaporating from his chest. No more than a moment of frantic searching showed him the ripped leather cord. He heard the buzzing again, saw the tiny, green bugs, and then realized it wasn't buzzing, but thousands of tiny voices making one sound.

"I'm what?" he didn't understand what they were telling him. They, it. The bugs. "Hey, I'm no one's instrument-" Desmond would never admit that he felt panicked when he tried and failed to swat them away. His hands went right through them. No, they just went into him.

"One is our instrument. One is any tool we wish one to be, One is unshaped mud." The voices sounded like a thousand tiny needles, all headed right for his core.

"With us, One does not need crude weapons," Desmond said under his breath. The little green insects weren't swarming him any longer. He realized he could feel the forest, the damage done to it, to himself, and immediately, he understood. He understood every stupid lecture about channeling the local spirits. Desmond shook his head while he rose back to his feet. "One does not channel. One is possessed by us." The news from his own mouth didn't seem to surprise him.

Desmond shrugged, and the leaves trembled while he breathed. He could feel, through weakened roots, where every vile piece of vermin was, and he could return them to the earth, feed the forest that way. "Give them back to us," he said, attention flicking over to the cultist who had cut the talisman. "For the pest that allowed us to have this one, a swifter end." Thick, robust roots burst from the packed dirt, squeezed between and even moved rocks. They crushed the man.

The forest itself moved to commands he didn't even know he was giving, but after all, it was his forest. Each tree, each plant was a part of him, and those who violated him would pay.

Apple stopped his pacing- looking for one that would slip past his rider, the cave itself too small for him to get into other than to open his mouth and shoot a jet of fire down it- when he felt a shift in Desmond. He could feel the forest all around him, but now also coming through the bond. His first thought was 'Finally!' and then the second was when the trees started to move like ents and he knew Desmond hadn't done it himself. "Idiot," he hissed and the sound was a loud, rolling, tumble of rocks and snapping trees.

He moved closer to the cave where the cultists were hiding and saw his rider standing just inside the mouth of the cave the vermin had hidden in. To Apple a huge, voluminous, green aura surrounded him. Paladins did not normally channel deities. Some could under extreme conditions if they'd done the right things. But not just from one instant to the next, and never like this where it seemed like… like Desmond was the deity and not just using their gifts.

Something was wrong.

Apple stayed back though. Because they still had a job to do and in this cloud of green power that probably only Apple could see, Desmond was doing his duty. Roots came up from the ground to strangle or trip, trees thrashed and when one managed to make it out of the cave branches reached down and strung them up. Apple snapped that one right out of the clinging branch, the man howled as Apple bit him in half, swallowing him mostly whole.

He stalked back and forth across the opening of the cave, no one else came out. The forest was claiming them. Elsewhere he could feel the rest of the forest moving, groaning and thrashing and ripping. He knew there was more taint in this forest than just here. Other small pockets of cultist activity. He could feel some of them being snuffed out. The forest was angry, and was using Desmond to fight. Apple just paced, waiting for his rider to come out of the cave.

There was no need for him to move, and he ended up being dropped to his knees. Exhaustion hit him like a wave, but the deity was not gone. They sighed, and Desmond did too, and the forest relaxed. It was then that he realized that They did not have a priest or a priestess, else this would not have happened. Their name was something he knew, too, but he wasn't exactly sure how to ask for his body back.

"Critune wants to thank One." Desmond could feel his voice separating from Theirs, and the reluctance to leave him. He definitely could have done without the next part, because retching up a bunch of bugs was not the way he would have wanted to regain control of himself. The tiny green insects scattered and that was it.

Now it was just Desmond sitting in a pool of blood that was slowly seeping back into the ground. "Ugh." He shuddered violently and scrounged up Alice, using the hammer to help himself to his feet. He still felt the bugs crawling up his throat, and if that was how being possessed by a deity was, he didn't want anything to do with it.

He kept swatting at himself until he was sure he couldn't feel them. "Apple. Apple, I want to sleep," Desmond said, looking a bit worse for wear.

'You idiot,' was the first thing Apple said once he saw Desmond basically limping on a crutch made from Alice out of the cave. He looked like he'd just done a week's worth of physical training in the ten or so minutes he'd been taken over.

He knelt down in front of Desmond with a whine. Sometimes he hated Desmond. Sometimes Desmond pissed him off so much and sometimes he thought the man was so completely useless Apple was disgusted in himself for choosing him. But Desmond was his rider and through the bond he could feel how weak he was, how tired and worn out he was. Despite how often he sometimes said Desmond should go do something stupid that could potentially kill him, Apple didn't want his rider to die.

'Got you,' Apple said as Desmond collapsed onto the front of his snout in exhaustion. With great care Apple lifted his head so he could pick Desmond off his nose. The man was larger than his front hand but Apple had no trouble holding him. He picked up Alice like the hammer was a toothpick and holding Desmond close to his chest he rocked back onto his haunches and jumped into the air.

It didn't take long for him to reach the town again and landed in the square. 'Desmond,' he said, 'wake up!' and he trumpeted to wake his rider, who had dozed off during the short flight. He knew Desmond wouldn't be able to sleep through that. 'Wake up and go sleep it off, stupid head,' though he growled at someone who came near, curious about Desmond in Apple's claws. Unless Desmond walked away on his own will no one was taking his rider anywhere.

Desmond startled, feeling like he'd just fallen. "Don't do that," he grumbled, trying to free himself from Apple's claws. He scowled, not exactly feeling good to walk, but he would anyway. He was too tired to think, much less talk. Walking was more irritating than anything.

He made his way toward that small tavern, told the keep he'd pay for the room when he got up, then picked a room upstairs and fell in the bed. Before Desmond even fell asleep, he knew it was going to be a rough one, but he doubted he'd even have the strength to wake himself from a nightmare.

With Desmond now safe and asleep Apple crawled out of the main square, but didn't take flight. Instead he went around to the back of the tavern and plopped himself down on a back road. Normally he'd go find a place to sleep in the wilderness, like under a tree or in a cave or in the lee of some rocks. But he didn't want to leave Desmond alone in a strange place after what had just happened. He rested his head on his front paws much like a dog.

From his position he could look up and see the room Desmond was in. He huffed and touched Desmond's mind through their bond. He felt turmoil and exhaustion. Deeper beyond that he felt a darkness akin to the taint they'd been sent to destroy in the forest. Apple's head jerked up with a snort and he looked into Desmond's room. Desmond was fast asleep, and had barely taken the time to take off his armor. He snorted again and touched the bond and Desmond through it.

He could still feel the taint. A deep darkness that Apple didn't even know existed. What in the world? Apple had no idea really what he was feeling through the bond. Except that it seemed to be 'pacing' around the 'outside' of Apple's ability to manipulate Desmond's mind like through thought speech or projection of images or feelings directly into his mind. It was not some passive thing, whatever it was. It knew Apple was there. And it knew that Apple was between it and whatever it wanted. What it wanted being Desmond.

Apple growled audibly and slinked back down, head on his paws once more, but kept himself close to the bond. Over his dead fucking body was anything like that getting near his rider, body or mind.

The darkness recoiled from Apple, hissing. It slunk around the bond like a starved wild dog. Just existing there was giving Desmond nightmares, and it didn't seem keen on leaving any time soon. It had been too slow to snatch control earlier, and it wouldn't miss the next chance. Apple was in his way.

It snarled and paced, just out of range. Desmond, it could convince easily. Apple, not so much. Either way, it would make Desmond's sleep very unproductive.

As said Apple was not subtle. He was a golden dragon who liked to sometimes eat people. Apple didn't know how to do subtle. Which is why he pushed hard against the bond and against Desmond's mind. It didn't wake Desmond up but at least now he could see what was going on.

It was quite literally a nightmare. Black ooze and rot and bubbling muck. This was the state his rider was currently sleeping in. No wonder Desmond often complained of nightmares. Most people put it up as stress from his duty to kill people and rid Troy of the cultists. But this was different and worse.

The shadow thing was not here. With Apple around it wouldn't get close. But their were still things to snap at. They were like rats and scattered when Apple swept his tail or closed his mouth around one, making it burst apart into harmless black smoke.

The more of the shadow things Apple chased away from his sleeping rider's mind the lighter it became. Things were less dark and oppressive. It was tiring work and made his mind ache. Normal he was never this close to Desmond over the bond. Being so intertwined wasn't a 'muscle' he normally used and it was showing. He stated to get slower on snapping at the shadows, but he did do so. He didn't know what would happen if that taint reached his rider but he knew he did not want to find out.

His restless shifting lessened, but the fact that his dreams were a little less disturbing seemed to help him a little. Desmond still jolted awake, right before one of the monstrous plague rats got to him and he sank into the muck.

For a few moments he was absolutely murderous. Desmond sank back down with a groan. Somehow it was the best sleep he'd ever gotten. By his standards. The dream had gotten pretty good, and that said a lot about how he usually slept.

Desmond huffed and rolled off of the bed, realizing that he actually felt pretty chipper, and just knew that it would piss Apple off. He went to the window and leaned out of it, looking down at the dragon.

"Don't tell me you fell asleep too," he said with a frown. They had other places to go to as far as he was aware. Oh, and he also had to pay the keep.

Apple growled at Desmond. He didn't appreciate Desmond's tone. 'Ungrateful snack,' he hissed at Desmond, barely touching the bond. He was so glad to be back fully in his own mind. Desmond's head was a mess, and not even the taint. Human minds were so chaotic and slippery. 'Not going anywhere,' and that was that. He wanted a nap now too. Desmond's brain was a mine field and Apple wanted nothing to do with it. So while Desmond was rested now it was only because Apple had been in his mind making sure that darkness didn't come anywhere near him. He was rightfully exhausted. If Desmond wanted to go he could go get on a horse. Otherwise they left on Apple time.

Desmond looked out at the rest of the town that he could see. The sun was pretty low, but he wasn't sure how long he'd slept. He made a noncommittal noise. "Sure, not like I can do anything about it," he said, waving his hand. He shut the window with a little more force than necessary, and changed. Having fallen asleep in his armor wasn't comfortable. He'd have bruises for weeks.

He was actually surprised to be greeted by a group of happy, albeit somewhat drunk patrons. Desmond wasn't aware that news had already gotten around.

"Did'ja kill 'em all?"

"Each an' ev'ry one a them?"

Somehow they took the sound Desmond made as a yes, and a loud kind of woop met the air. "No, I did," he more or less said to himself. A mug was thrust into his hands, and he had a hard time not spilling it while he squeezed his way to the inkeeper at the bar. "Sorry for coming in a right mess like that." Desmond couldn't remember whether the large-bellied man had been angry or concerned when he stumbled in earlier, practically asleep on his feet.

The man laughed, which was more of a guffawing, and Desmond was sure his stomach actually jiggled. "No, no, my boy, you took care of those bastards, they ain't comin' 'round these parts again if that's for sure. You've earned it, if anything, we should be payin' you for a job like that." Each time he said 'you,' it sounded more like yar, and Desmond was comfortably amused by his accent. "Some a' the men went out there, they're sayin' there ain't nothin' left a' them camps, no one's been as thoroah' as that before," he said, tapping the tankard in Desmond's hands. "You best be drinkin' that, and then I've got plenty more, son."

"No, I have to pay." Even so, Desmond took a deep drink from the tankard, and realized he was actually pretty ravenous, and incredibly thirsty. He hadn't meant to chug the entire contents in one go, but when he put the mug down, it was empty. "Hows… about I pay for a feast of a meal, feed ev'ry one in here." It was too easy for him to slip back into how he used to talk when he actually did start to speak to people. He'd spent most of his time running off from the church orphanage to hang out with the thieves and beggars - was where he got his sticky fingers from - and all he ever heard was them talking.

He fixed the keep with a toothy grin. "You'd be needing it." Desmond slid the purse across the worn wooden bartop and refused to take it back.

"Aaaawrlright. Ya heard the man, he's hungry! Let's get the spit goin'! An' where's my wife! She got cookin' ta' do!" He squeezed out from behind the bar and left the refilling of mugs to a much younger man, hardly more than a boy, Desmond thought. He watched the tavern flare up into a flurry, and he leaned back against the bar, letting it go to his head a little bit.

"C'n I refill that?"

Desmond looked over at the boy. "You got any fruit here?"

The kid hesitated a bit, but nodded slowly, "I think so. You want some?"

"Couple a' apples, don't matter what kind ya got. I want… ten of 'em."

"And a waterskin, make that two. One for water, one for wine." He flicked a few golden coins at him. "I didn't go nowhere, ok?" Desmond grinned at him, thanking him for the satchel of apples and skins. He slipped through the crowd all too easily, and out into the already darkened, and mostly empty street.

When a gentle prod at Apple's mind didn't garner him any response, Desmond walked around to the back of the tavern and took out two of the apples. They were both bright red, which amused him even more. He prodded him again, just to be doubly sure, and then balanced them, one after the other, on his snout. Desmond took off immediately, and mostly silently, toward the woods.

He didn't exactly have ceremonial wine, and he hoped that what he had would still have the same kind of meaning. Desmond wasn't even sure exactly what he was supposed to do, but he knew why Critune had been so weak to succumb to the dark venom. It was only further driven in by the fact that no one in the town seemed to pay any kind of homage to the heartswoods.

He munched on the eighth apple while he walked through the forest as if he knew it like he knew the back of his hand with his eyes closed. He remembered that even numbers were bad luck, so eating the eighth served a double purpose.

Desmond stopped in front of the largest heartswood that sat at the very epicenter of the forest. It was absolutely ancient. "'Ey Cricket! I don't remember much with how this is working, but I thought you could use sumthin'. It's been a right age since you got much of anything, ain't it?" He knelt down, stacking the apples in a kind of cone within the gnarled roots. The core of the 'bad' apple was put on top of the seventh apple, and he set the wineskin by all of that.

He sat down in the thick moss, drinking from the waterskin, lapsing into silence. He didn't expect a response. "I'm real sorry. On their behalf. I think, with all of this… science and advancing, people forget."

His words were met with relative silence. The wind rustled the leaves, but there was no other noise. Desmond growled at himself and rumpled his hair. He'd be getting no answers, that much he could tell. He pushed himself to his feet, rested his hand against one of the roots for a moment, and wasn't quite sure why, but thanked the giant tree.

With that, he left, feet remembering the track he'd taken to get there. About halfway back, he stopped to relieve himself, and then made it back to the tavern. By then, of course, they'd noticed he was gone, but the excuse for air was enough to please them, so he joined them and ate. He ate until he was full, and drank until he had to piss, pissed, and then came back to drink some more. At some point Desmond thought he remembered trying to serenade the keep's wife - Annawren? Annalyn? Keep's name was something like Georg…


	3. Chapter 3

When Apple woke he had a momentary spike of panic. Where was Desmond? Before he'd even opened his eyes he reached out and grabbed the bond. Thankfully he found Desmond sleeping away, Desmond felt tired and Apple felt rested.

Once he was sure Desmond wasn't dead or overcome by the taint Apple opened his eyes because he felt something on the end of his snout and-

Apple wrenched his head up and bellowed out a roar that shook the ground. "That isn't funny you fucking punk!" he yelled aloud since he was mad. He hated when Desmond did that, put fucking fruits on his snout while he slept. Even worse that they were apples. Like how funny, so original bro, remind me to laugh.

'Wake up. We're leaving,' Apple shot through Desmond's mind since Desmond could sleep through just about anything, even Apple roaring. But when he shoved it right through Desmond's mind he couldn't ignore it. Apple scowled at the apples on the ground, shot a little bloom of fire at them, and then lapped them up. They were barely snacks.

Desmond was startled by the rude jab in his brain and snarled. There was somebody next to him and he very nearly choked her. Well, she'd been awake, so it was more like Desmond suddenly smacked her hand away, bolted upright, and then whirled to pin her to the mattress.

What surprised him about it was that she didn't scream, and that they were both more or less clothed. Desmond had his pants on at least. He was silent for a while, then ground out an apology. He really couldn't remember how she'd ended up there, but the minute he sorted himself out and let her go, he was broadsided by one of the nastiest hangovers he'd ever had.

He fumbled with everything after that. Picking up his clothes, pulling them on. He'd nearly dropped his armor three times out the door, and the one time he did, it sounded like someone was using his head as an anvil. Strapping things back onto Apple's saddle seemed to be just as hard as using magic like a regular Paladin could: impossible. Desmond huffed angrily at it, and hoped he didn't look like too much of an idiot climbing into the saddle.

"You go pull those stunts, I'm throwing up on your hide."

'Is isn't my fault you decided to drink all the beer last night,' Apple said with some annoyance. 'You did it all on your own,' he admitted out a bit of smoke in contempt for his rider. Once Desmond was strapped in Apple took off, and didn't do anything flashy. He just flew.

Desmond sobered up in the air. Something about the wind being cold and biting at his face. He still wasn't looking forward to delivering his report, and telling the High Priest he'd broken and… lost the talisman. He thought that what he had accomplished would overshadow that - he had no idea he could do something like that. He hadn't just channeled that aspect of Cricket, he'd actually become her. It was the only word he could put to what had happened. If the talisman was what had stopped him from working like any other Paladin, he'd be pretty pissed.

That was without saying Desmond had no idea what Apple had to go through to keep him safe that night. Ignorance was certainly bliss, alright. He made a point to make sure he at least washed up before going to see the High Priest. Desmond could still see dry blood under his nails. And dirt. He could only imagine what he smelled like. Beer, mead, sweat. Maybe he could kill a cat with his armpit alone.

When Apple landed, Desmond avoided the aides and made a bee-line for his quarters in the monastery. Maybe he'd leave something at the little altar for Cricket, like he did at the heartswood. Except it'd actually be an offering instead of… the apples and house wine - which was pretty good; he'd had some when he got back to the tavern that he offhandedly remembered the keep's name being Georg because the tavern itself was called Georg and Grog.

He laughed quietly as he passed some of the scholars on his way to the bath. Ever since he found out that a lot of other places had personal bathrooms and actual piped water, he'd begun to resent the large, communal place they had at the church. But every time he actually sunk into the water in the steamy room, he remembered how weird and cramped the tiny personal baths were, and was actually pretty happy and thankful for it.

Desmond washed, rinsed, dried and re-dressed within the span of about thirty minutes, and slicked back his still wet hair. He didn't mind at all that it dripped all over his shirt, and he was pretty sure no one would except for the High Priest, but he'd already fucked one thing up, his wet hair probably wouldn't be high on the list of things the old man would be mad at him about.

"I'm back Pa," Desmond announced, waltzing into the High Priest's halls without knocking or otherwise making himself known before breaching the somewhat private space. It was private in the fact that it was common courtesy to seek permission before entering.

Altair looked over his shoulder when Desmond came in unannounced. He held back an annoyed growl. Rashid just raised his hand and Altair lowered his hackles a little. "You should really learn to knock, boy," Altair said, rather viciously actually. As the highest ranked dragon knight in the entire country Altair found Desmond borish and bothersome. The kid was completely underwhelming. That and his ugly war hammer bothered Altair. Paladins were white knights for gods' sake and supposed to act like the messengers of god and be regal and beautiful when they fought. There was nothing beautiful about swinging a war hammer.

"You're back so soon," Rashid said at seeing Desmond. Desmond never finished this quickly. If he wanted an entire forest taken care of in the span of a day he sent someone who could handle it; like Altair. Honestly he often sent Desmond out on larger missions just so he'd be gone because the boy was a trial. The fact that Desmond was back this soon meant something had happened. "What news do you bring?" the High Priest asked, folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

Desmond ignored Altaïr. When he was younger, it seemed like all he wanted to do was be like the (arrogant) older Paladin. He wasn't even that old, just older than Desmond. Now, it looked like Desmond avoided and ignored him. He was here to talk to the High Priest anyway.

"I purged the forest," he said, trying not to show his pride, "of the cultists and the tainted magic. You never told me the talisman made it impossible to use magic." Desmond stood a little ways away from the desk, arms loosely crossed at the wrist behind his back.

Altair looked at Rashid in slight surprise. Desmond's inept ability to use magic was practically legendary amid the Paladin corps. Everyone knew Desmond was a dud and not a few were disgusted and irritated that a dragon like Apple had chosen him; a dud. But he didn't think the High Priest would deliberately set up to sabotage the young Paladin.

Rashid rubbed his temple, "Altair, excuse us," he said.

Altair wanted to say no, fuck that noise he was staying (in the words of his dragon at least). But he obeyed the High Priest, "Of course," he bowed a little and walked out of the office, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he left. His head turned to keep Desmond in his sight for a few moments before he faced forward and continued to the door, closing it behind him.

Rashid sighed and looked at Desmond with a slight frown, "Tell me what happened," he said, as always infinitely patient with Desmond.

He watched Altaïr pass by him. Desmond knew that Rashid often sent him to get him out of everyone's hair, but he was also brutally efficient when it came to killing cultists, so whoever was sent after to purify the tainted land didn't have to deal with a larger threat.

"No," he started, as he often did, but really he was thinking back, reaching up to rake his hair back again. "They weren't a problem. The talisman broke, and I lost it. The talisman I mean." Not that his violent habits were unknown to anyone in the order. "I'm not sure how, but I used something- no, They used me, but whatever it was, when I had myself back, there was nothing left." Desmond paused for a moment, fingers twitching.

"There were children," he said without warning. And like everyone else. Critune had used him to kill them too. He hadn't even thought twice about it at the time, they were part of the rot in his- the forest, they needed to be purged like the rest of them. Whether or not they knew better.

"Someone used you?" Rashid asked, he wasn't concerned with the cultists. Desmond did what he was supposed to do. Rashid was much more interested in how Desmond had taken care of the blight, rather than who had done it. "What do you mean by that?" though Rashid knew. He'd been hoping to avoid this with the talisman of binding.

Despite what most of the brotherhood or even the other Paladins thought Rashid knew Desmond was actually enormously powerful. But he had no finesse to channel it. He had no natural talent to hone his abilities into something that was anything less than nearly uncontrollable. Desmond was all might, but no grace, much like how he fought. Rashid had hoped the talisman would help Desmond, make him focus to draw out his power. The talisman wasn't supposed to stop his so much as it was supposed to create a narrow avenue for which his power could travel, meaning he would have to work at it to unlock it. But Desmond was lazy when it came to magic, under the impression that he was as everyone said; a dud.

"Sit, child," Rashid motioned to the chair opposite him, "Tell me exactly what happened."

Desmond frowned, but sat. "The forest. Critune?" He made another face, more of a scowl than a frown. "There were these bugs, and I thought they were just bothering me, but it turned out to be Them. Whatever we did was exhausting."

"I didn't know I could do anything besides blow things up. But I also didn't know that the talisman was what made me completely useless. Was it just so I didn't ruin more classrooms?"

"The talisman didn't make you useless, Desmond," Rashid said, "Your acceptance of being a dud did. It was supposed to help you focus. Now, back to Critune. What did they do to you?" he asked. "They were the deity of the forest, yes?" he didn't wait for Desmond's characteristic 'no' and a nod of his head. Desmond was so used to just denying anything that 'no' didn't even mean anything to him. It was practically 'um'. "What did it do to you?" because he still hadn't gotten that out of Desmond. Just that there were bugs and that he'd cleared the taint. But what had Critune done?

"We destroyed it." Desmond put it together in his head, realizing what Rashid wanted from him. "Possessed me," he said without even thinking for a better way to say it. It clearly didn't look like he had a problem with it, but the way he said it spoke volumes. Not to mention the shudder when he remembered what it felt like when he got himself back.

He'd been feeling a little heavier, though solid was probably a better way to say it. Critune had left a mark in him just by using his body, but it wasn't as if anything manifested, no physical change that he was aware of, but it wasn't as if Desmond had expressly checked.

"It possessed you?" and Rashid knew this was very bad. Dragon knights could channel pieces of deities who they'd given proper homage. They were much more connected to the earth than other Paladins, who were simply white mages, because of their dragons. So they could wield far more power than a normal Paladin. But possession.

Rashid knew more about Desmond than he'd ever tell. Knew about his parentage and his abilities and what he could become if left to his own devices. He'd been trying to steer Desmond away from those things, to hone his abilities. But the boy was so difficult at times and refused to listen most of the time. One thing Desmond hated nearly as much as cultists he thought had killed his parents, was someone trying to oppress him and make him do something he didn't want to do.

"That isn't supposed to happen," Rashid said, though he figured Desmond knew that.

"I guessed that. What else am I supposed to not be able to do, Pa?" Desmond regarded Rashid a little suspiciously. "I also had the best sleep I've ever had since losing the talisman," he said.

"Since you lost it?" that made no sense. The talisman was supposed to keep them out. No talisman and Rashid was surprised Desmond was even here. Something other than the talisman must have protected Desmond last night. It had to be incredibly powerful to do so though, as powerful as Rashid himself. Perhaps even more so since even with the talisman Desmond complained about bad dreams.

Then the High Priest understood. Apple. A dragon was significantly stronger in magical ability than Rashid could ever hope to be. There were few things more powerful than dragons. "Desmond, there are powerful forces at work here," he said solemnly. "A god can only enter the body of a mortal who they have specifically chosen to be their host and avatar on earth. A normal mortal body cannot withstand the fury and power of a god. There force would rip them apart. It is why we teach the ability to, if willing, a deity may bestow a fraction of their power onto our Paladins. The ability to be possessed by a god is the realm of the chosen few. None exist in Troy because we have people like you and Altair, Paladins and dragon knights who can, with practice, take on some of the powers of the gods, May they be willing. You say Critune possessed you. Meaning what you did was extraordinary and practically unheard of in Troy," there was more of course. But Rashid didn't think Desmond was ready to hear it. Not yet. It was too new and fresh and terrifying. "And extremely dangerous. The talisman I have you was to protect you. And now you lost it."

A million things leapt to his tongue and wanted to be said. What did he mean by forces - other deities? Why wasn't he torn asunder when Critune possessed him? Was he supposed to be Their priest?" When Rashid didn't explain any further, he managed to hold his tongue. Just barely.

"What would you have me do about it? It's broken, and it's gone, I have no idea where it is. I could hardly stand after it happened." He wouldn't admit that it humbled him - Critune's power was absolutely incredible.

Desmond did know one thing though. "If They were still remembered things like this wouldn't happen." His lip curled. "They wouldn't have been so weak." He slouched in the chair as if exhausted. Really, he was just lazy, and hated keeping perfect posture even in front of the High Priest.

Rashid sighed a little, "I'll make you a new one. While I do talk to your dragon about how well you slept last night. It was his doing, not the lack of the talisman. He did manually what the talisman does automatically, and judging by your statement he did it better. I'll have to strengthen the spells on this talisman. As for Critune, sadly there isn't much we can do," he shrugged helplessly. "Even in Troy we can only do so much." But he did plan to dispatch a priest to the Critune's forest, to set up a shrine and educate the people on why it was important to pay homage to the local deities. Not doing so made them weak and easy targets for the cultist's taint.

Desmond straightened up again, not even bothering to wait to ask Apple about why he'd slept so well. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He missed exactly what Rashid said about strengthening the enchantment.

"I don't want it to make me useless," he said, refocusing. "I couldn't do anything with the old one. Why is it a problem that I don't have it, again?"

'You were fucking sleeping you moron,' Apple said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. 'And then I was asleep and then you were stupid and hung over. Don't blame me for me not being able to tell you when in the past sixteen hours one of us has been asleep. And you gonna say thanks or what you ungrateful jerk?'

Rashid frowned, he knew Desmond was only half listening. Him having a dragon did not help his attention span. "The talisman doesn't cancel out your powers, Desmond. There is no artifact on earth that can do that to magic," though he was specific to say specifically about Desmond's magic. Rashid could make a talisman of binding that would make someone like Altair a dud. But not Desmond. Better if he didn't know that though. It'd just go to the child's head. "It does not negate your ability to use magic, it simply is there to help you channel it in a way that isn't destructive. It's supposed to help you. The only reason you can't use magic is because you think you're a dud. The talisman doesn't make you useless, Desmond; you do."

"I didn't hear Critune until it broke. I... saw the bugs but I didn't hear... anything." Desmond slouched again. "How do I use this? You make me sit through all of these lectures on magic but it doesn't teach me how to... do the whole possession thing. Or do anything, really." Desmond looked away from Rashid. "When They were there, I realized I didn't have the magic at all. It was all Theirs, and They took it with them when it was over." As far as he could tell, but he wasn't used to feeling any kind of magic unless it was exploding in his face.

Rashid sighed, oh how this boy tried his patience with being as stupid as a pile of rocks sometimes. He knew it wasn't always Desmond's fault, but the boy wasn't going to learn anything by pretending nothing was his fault. "Possession is not a skill the brotherhood teaches," Rashid said, "It is incredibly dangerous and each person can only be possessed by one god. If Critune possessed you than that is it," Rashid knew that was a lie but Desmond didn't need to know that.

"And if you paid attention during class instead of goofing off with your dragon or sleeping perhaps you'd learn something in those lessons. Magic is about control, something you have very little of. Your power will not come until you learn to control it," Rashid said sternly.

Rashid's explanation didn't sit well with him, and his unease reached toward Apple, along with what Rashid was telling him. "I know it is! I can recite the chants, if only because I've had the lecture thirty times!" Desmond was positive he didn't have his own magic.

And he didn't, not really. He had nothing to control. Desmond frowned again, as he'd been doing a lot of. There was something Rashid wasn't telling him, but he'd long since learned it was not a good idea to pry, so he tried for a middle ground.

"I just want to know about myself, and like you said, Pa, they don't teach what I did."

"Knowing the chants or what to say doesn't do anything on it's own Desmond," Rashid hated to admit his voice was going up in volume a bit. Desmond just knew how to be so frustrating. "If you want to know about yourself then you actually have to have the capacity to find out yourself," he said irritably. "You are a dragon knight Desmond, and expect things to be handed to you because a dragon thought you worthy. Yet you lack the ability to do anything alone. You want me to give you answers, you want your teachers to teach you magic, you want so much boy. The only one inhibiting those things is you because you're a selfish boy who can't look past himself about what he needs to do to succeed. Life is hard, Desmond, and I don't always have all the answers. Sometimes you must go out and find them."

Apple had been listening on the down low through Desmond, 'Dude,' he said, 'I can go get some ice for that burn if you need it.'

Desmond's lip curled back over his teeth. He thought he'd done all he could do. He hadn't ignored the lectures until he was forced to attend them and couldn't do so much as conjure a whisper of smoke since the talisman and he'd been banned from the arcane lab.

"If I can't learn about what I'm actually made for here, I'll find someone who can." He stood up, shoving the chair violently before leaving. Desmond stormed through the corridors, irked at Apple, and frustrated with Rashid. He was sick of half answers. And being reminded that he was incompetent by Paladin standards, yet he'd become one. And no one felt like telling him why he was still kept around.

'Shut up,' he growled at Apple. 'We're leaving tomorrow, we aren't coming back.' He didn't wait for his input. Desmond pretty much locked himself in his room. He stared around at what sparse furnishings there were, and his even sparser belongings. His stomach clenched a little, and he realized he was actually nervous. Desmond had never seriously wanted to leave, though he threatened it so often while he was growing up. The fact that he actually wanted to this time was a little frightening.

Packing his things distracted him from it for long enough, and he didn't leave his room until he was hungry, and he more or less slunk into the hall.

'What? Leaving?' Apple stuck his head against the window of the hall so his big purple eye could look into the open window.. 'What about Skye? What about your training? What about the High Priest and your talisman? Not that I don't like ya Dessy but I can't do that shit every night. Just keeping up with your nap was exhausting. I can't do that every night. I'd never sleep! And I need my beauty sleep… Not as much as you, but a dragon's gotta sleep,' and really Apple wouldn't let Desmond sleep with that… muck trying to get in. He did feel protective of his rider after all. He didn't like that shadow and didn't want it near Desmond. No way he was going to sleep idle while Desmond did. But if he didn't sleep idle then he'd never sleep. It was a lose lose situation.

Desmond shoved food into his mouth, scowling down at the plate. 'What training. I'm just sitting through the same lectures over and over again. They can't teach me anything I don't already know. I was possessed. It fucking possessed me. That makes me Their priest or whatever, and no one's been teaching me anything about that.' He sighed a lot more forcefully than need be. 'He said something about why I slept well… Was that you?'

'Yes,' Apple settled down next to the dining hall, 'Something was attempting to attack you telepathically. I made sure they left you alone. Which is why I was saying you're a fucking ungrateful jerk. You really have no idea all the stuff everyone does for you do you? Why the shit did I pick such a self centered idiot as my rider I'll never know,' outside Apple sighed deeply, easily audible from inside. 'Where are we going to go?' Apple asked, 'This is our home.'

He shrugged, and the motion was also transferred through the link. 'Castle, probably. Every royal family has at least one who is a medium, it's like… some kind of royal...' Desmond trailed off, dropping his fork. His parents were nobodies, not that he knew or remembered them at all. He felt sick, and stared down at the worn table until the feeling went away. By then, his appetite had fled, and he dumped what was left.

Desmond went outside rather than straight back to his room. He hadn't expressly said anything to Apple through their link, but his mind was in a little bit more than simple turmoil.

Apple whined when Desmond came out of the hall and stretched out his neck to bump it against Desmond's shoulder. 'I'm not going to leave you ever,' he reminded Desmond, since he knew sometimes his rider had abandonment issues since his parents had left him at the church. 'Even if you annoy me, I'm here.'

He scratched at the scales under his chin, arms wrapped around Apple's snout. 'You can't leave me anyway. Whatever madness made you think I was a good choice got you stuck with me.' Desmond grumbled wordlessly under his breath. 'I wish I could do things on my own. I just don't feel it,' he said, referring to the whole magic issue.

Letting go of his face, he walked further through the courtyard, toward the pantheon. 'I mean, I have no problem blowing up a classroom. But lighting a candle? I've been trying to do that exercise for years. Not even smoke.' And even the kids could do that. He wasn't sure why he just knew he couldn't feel it, but now that he actually stopped - literally, he stopped walking halfway to the hall of little alcoves to leave offerings in - to think about it, and the weight was gone.

'It isn't as if I could do magic before Pa made me wear the talisman.' Desmond looked back at Apple, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. He moved back toward him, hoping that his unease wasn't too obvious. Though the link between them made it hard for him to hide his feelings.

Apple made a noise and moved his neck to circle around Desmond when he got near. Apple literally could not help feeling protective, no matter how much Desmond pissed him off or was annoying or stupid. 'You couldn't use the magic they wanted to teach you,' Apple said, his eyes on level with Desmond's head so he could look at him. 'Dragons do not bond with people who aren't capable of spell casting. You just have to find the type of casting you can do' he said reassuringly.

He grumbled. 'I know. But they aren't going to teach me that here.' Desmond actually leaned against Apple's side. 'I feel weird without the talisman,' he admitted. Naked, almost. He turned his face against the smooth ridges of Apple's scales. It was a far cry from a soft bed, or someone's cloak, but Apple was warm as anything.

Desmond leaned away and squared up almost immediately. 'We're still leaving tomorrow.' He wasn't sure how sleeping was going to work if it was Apple who let him sleep last time? He wasn't sure how that worked either.

'I've only been saying that since like… forever dude,' Apple reminded him. He was always trying to get Desmond to try different casting, not white casting, because Desmond didn't do white casting. 'Though for the whole sleeping thing. You either need to wait for the talisman, make your own, or learn to defend yourself. I can't do it for you, I can't sleep and watch over you at the same time. Meaning you'll get nowhere.'

He shrugged. "I'll wait then." Desmond said, and continued through the courtyard toward the pantheon. He walked past the little alcoves in the gentle half-circle of the walkway, each with their own little prayer bench, and offerings left by other members of the order - though Desmond was pretty sure that most of them were left by the scholars.

When he was younger, he always thought the statues in the cubbies were weird, or creepy even. There was one he had been fascinated with, and often found himself standing in front of it blankly. Desmond stopped there, like he nearly always did, and traced his fingers over the inscription on the pedestal. None of the names in this hall were written in English, and there had been one point in his life where Desmond knew all of them off the top of his head, both in English and in the strange, unspoken script he was staring hard at right now.

Desmond wasn't sure of the importance of the fact that he knew this name, but looking down the curved hall, he could also see Critune's without even reading the inscription. His eyes flicked back to the statue he was standing by, and the visualization of Diskatol stared back at him with eyes of dark rubies. He hesitated before moving on, pace a bit brisker than before.

'Pa said I'm the reason I can't do magic like the rest of them,' Desmond said, lips moving slightly while he sent the words to Apple. He avoided a couple of other scholars, and reached his destination at Critune's alcove.

'Humans are stupid,' Apple said and moved to sit in the very middle of the court yard because he was a dragon and could do whatever the hell he wanted and only an older dragon could tell him to fuck off. But really dragons were pretty chill and if one of them saw Apple chilling like a homie in the courtyard, they'd probably just lay down next to him and they'd start blowing smoke rings cause that shit was fun. 'He might not know what he's talking about at all. Especially when it comes to you. Personally I think you just need someone else to teach you. Someone who isn't trying to shove white magic down your throat like these guys do here. You're not made for white magic.'

There was a kind of mental breath, similar to when someone is about to speak, but doesn't quite make it to words, and that was more or less the feeling coming from Desmond then. He'd noticed that the flowers by the statue were pretty dead, and whatever thought he was planning on sending to Apple died before even beginning transit. Somehow, the untended flowers irritated him, and he reached out to touch the dry petals.

He picked up the limp stems, rolling them gently between his fingers, remembering how, like sweeping the halls, tending to the pantheon was part of his duties growing up. Desmond had never actually been irritated at an offering that was about a week old, give or take a few days, but this got to him differently. He'd experienced what this kind of neglect could lead to, and he'd felt Their desperation, even if it hadn't been for very long.

Desmond let out a breath, and the mountain flowers in his hands trembled. He held them close, tightly without crushing them, the dry, withered petals cupped in his hands. It felt like something opened, but he wasn't trying to do anything, he was, literally, just breathing. Like that, the flowers became livelier right in front of his eyes. The green tint that everything around him developed clung to the edges of his vision even after he put the revitalized flowers back down.

When he tried to hold on to that sensation, it slipped through his fingers, and he didn't realize exactly how far he'd been reaching until the gates closed again. Proverbially, they were gates, because Desmond was pretty sure there weren't actually doors and corridors or gates inside of him. "Well… that's something," he mumbled, avoiding looks as he slipped out of the pantheon again. Whatever he'd found in his head, he didn't really want to open it back up again. It had honestly been terrifyingly huge. Not quite close to how expansive Critune had been, but incredibly, unnervingly huge.

Apple knew when Desmond used magic the moment he did it. He sniffed and some smoke trickled from his nose as he blinked his purple eyes. He felt the swell of power rise up, crest, and then ebb back down and away like a wave. 'What did you just do?' Apple swung his head around to block Desmond's path. 'What did you do? Do it again,' he demanded, because that was the first time Desmond had ever used magic that didn't involve blowing something up. 'You've only used red magic up till now. How the hell did you just use green?' because most people could use one type of magic. Most paladins and dragon knights used white magic, some of the priests in the order used blue or green magic. Apple always saw Desmond as a red mage in his mind's eye when he thought of his rider. But now Desmond had just used green magic like a fucking druid.

He scowled at Apple's head, but he knew trying to sidestep and avoid him wouldn't do much. "I didn't do anything. The flowers were dead, I don't see the big deal here." Desmond usually spoke out loud to Apple unless he couldn't. A big part of it was that he wasn't sure how he'd done it, so he didn't know how to do it again.

Apple sniffed him, he smelled like dirt and pine needles instead of beer and piss and vomit and sweat like he had earlier. It was similar to how he smelled like ash and gun powder after he blew something up by accident. 'Yes you did. You did whatever it was that just happened. And you used green magic. Being possessed is one thing to use other magic, whatever, shit happens you move on with your life. But Desmond… you're a fucking red mage. People, humans at least,' since magical creatures were capable of multiple forms of magic, usually ones that coincided with each other (white and green, blue and green, red and black, etc), 'can't use two types of magic. What the hell did you just do?' he demanded.

Desmond growled, "Who said, you?" He backed up, more so to avoid Apple's breath, which was hot and honestly a little pungent. 'Look, I don't know how I did it, or exactly what I did,' he jabbed back, Apple's demanding tone making him irritable. He waved his hands at himself, 'Does it look like I ever know what I'm doing unless it's Alice plus face?' Desmond was voicing his thoughts out loud while sending them over their connection without realizing it again.

Apple growled, frustrated with his rider and pulled his head back. Why had he even bothered? Desmond was just as inept as before. 'You literally can't do anything,' Apple said, annoyed and irritated with him. Sometimes Apple just wanted to eat him so he could move on with his life. But as long as Desmond lived the bond would remain and it was a physical ache when Apple was away from Desmond for a prolonged amount of time because of it. He cursed his parents, whoever they were, to leaving his egg at this church.

He looked at Desmond and knew, in the back of his mind, that if he wanted to make Desmond do anything he'd have to be angry. He just wanted Desmond to just once use magic consciously. 'You're completely worthless,' he told Desmond and audibly growled at him. 'No wonder your parents left you here. You're a loser.'

The moment Apple pulled the parent card, Desmond tasted smoke and ash, and saying he saw red was putting it lightly. Where there was smoke, there was certainly fire - and it was everywhere in the courtyard in a flash. "They died you fucking prick!" He shouted over the burst of flame, the brunt of it washing uselessly over Apple's scales. Of course it wouldn't do anything to a Goddamn dragon - they had their nests in fucking volcanoes or something like that.

Desmond actually punched Apple, leaving even more soot over the golden scales, but like always, the ball of fire disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. It left nothing but the indication of scorch marks and heat, and the heavy taste of smoke clinging to his mouth. He was still angry, and he could feel that in his chest.

"What does that make you?" He spat at Apple, lip curled back over his teeth. Desmond glared up at him, eyes still red with the flames. "You picked a damn useless loser of a rider! What the Hell does that make you?!"

Apple roared at him, his tail thrashed. 'Stupid! But at least I can admit it. At least I can admit when I fucked up. You're too busy blaming everyone for your own damn problems,' Apple could feel other people watching them. No shit. Desmond had just set fire to most of the things in the courtyard. Which was exactly what Apple had wanted.

'Unlike you who can't admit it. It'd be better off if you just killed yourself. Then I wouldn't be burdened with such a shitty rider who's too afraid of what he can do and the magic he possesses. You're weak and you're scared and you're a loser who doesn't have anything in the world except a dragon and a useless piece of metal. You're so lonely you talk to your own fucking war hammer and gave it a female name because no one loves you,' Apple just kept pushing. He just pushed and pushed and pushed and he wasn't going to stop now. Desmond had shown he was capable of casting now. He just had to need to cast, he needed to be angry. 'No one is ever going to love you, because you try to kill them as soon as you wake up like some sort of freak/'

Desmond blanked completely. He didn't care if what Apple was saying to him was true anymore, it was just something that pissed him off, and Apple was an annoying, dragon-sized asshole, and things needed to burn.

"Smart that'cha don't open that pretty damn mouth," he snarled, fire curling around his hands. There wasn't much of him that wasn't being licked by the flames, but they moved with a tenuous control that did not look very sure. Desmond shut off from Apple just as completely as he'd blanked, refusing to hear his thoughts.

His hand moving toward the dragon was the only warning before he fired off a fireball at Apple's face. "It ain't as fire-proof in there is it?!" It hit the side of his face, exploding in another, small wave. There were plenty of things Desmond didn't need, and one of them was his dragon telling him everything he already knew and hated about himself. He'd stuff a fireball down Apple's throat the moment his mouth opened, that was for sure.

Apple growled at him and stalked around him, making Desmond turn, making him have to move and use the fire at the same time. He snorted smoke out of his nose. He could force the connection, Desmond could ever shut him out entirely. But doing so could hurt him. Apple didn't want to hurt him. He just wanted to make Desmond angry. And well… he'd succeeded in that.

He'd been in Desmond's head long enough to know exactly what his rider was thinking. As soon as he opened his mouth he was going to shoot a fireball at him. So he was going to give Desmond exactly what he wanted. It wouldn't do much of course. Desmond was an idiot to think that his insides weren't fire resistant. He breathed fire after all. But then his rider had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I don't need to be in your head to know what you're thinking," Apple said, still stalking around him, keeping him turning. But he had his mouth turned away as his loud, rumbling voice, rolled off his tongue, so Desmond didn't have a shot. Then he turned and looked at Desmond, "You're so predictable," and he knew Desmond was too mad to see Apple was setting him up.

Desmond hadn't actually hated Apple before. Even though he ruined the shot, Desmond still threw fire at him. It wasn't hard to miss a damn dragon. Hearing him speak just made him angrier, and the angrier he got, the hotter he burned. He stopped turning to keep Apple in front of him, as if he couldn't be assed to even look at him.

"Do you ever shut up?" He hissed through the crackling flames. "I shut you out 'cause I don't want to hear you," Desmond snarled, "What makes you think I wanna hear you fuckin' speak."

"Too fucking bad," Apple thundered, he could feel the other dragons now, not just people, taking notice of them. Some of the older dragons were getting restless and he knew real casters were coming, Paladins and dragons knights to see what was burning and put it out. Soon someone was going to come and probably knock Desmond out. "I don't want a useless rider who needs to throw a temper tantrum to use magic. But that's what I got anyway," he hissed and waved his head in front of Desmond's face, taunting him. "Worthless," and he spat out a little globule of burning spit that roared as hot and high as Desmond's rage flames. "My spit is more than you."

The spit congealed and joined with the flames around Desmond before they receded just slightly. That was fine. Apple could keep talking, he'd just make him shut up.

And then Desmond did the impossible, vines and roots shooting out from the somehow untouched garden, following a sweeping gesture of his arm. His hand closed and they wrapped around Apple's face, snapped his snout shut, and like great snakes, coiled around Apple's neck. He was still swathed in the fire, and both were exhausting him. "Already so much better."

Apple laughed in his throat, though for a moment he couldn't talk. Then he brought his claws up and shredded the vines on his throat, since they were still only plants. "Finally," Apple said delightfully. "I don't even care if you hate me, I'm glad you can finally do it," and even though Desmond was trying to block him out Apple was still broadcasting his kudos as loudly and straightforward as he could through the bond as possible.

As he said that other dragon knights and Paladins arrived and dragons raised their heads from over the tops of the surrounding areas. Desmond didn't even seem to notice though. All his attention and fury was focused only on Apple. Apple's mouth was pulled back in a dragon's smile though, pleased and smug with himself.

Desmond was still too pissed to even want to listen to the praise. The flame around him crackled, then extinguished itself. The shredded roots and vines were just that once again, not quite lifeless, but definitely stationary midst the upset soil strewn across the path. He did manage one last fireball at the stupid grin on Apple's face, and then he stalked off, pushing through those who had gathered without thinking too hard about it.

He was still pissed off as all hell, Apple had just thrown him off center a little. Desmond still didn't let Apple into his head, nor was he going anywhere in particular, aside from just going away from him. Somewhere that Apple couldn't snake his neck to or fit his hulk in. He didn't want to deal with the others' prying either.


	4. Chapter 4

When Desmond woke up, he didn't remember falling asleep, nor did he remember what he dreamed about. It didn't really matter to him, and after washing his face, he gathered up his things, hardly enough to make his leather bag useful. He slung it over his shoulder, and fit Alice between it and his armor, not really seeing a reason to carry it around in his hands. Over that, he draped a cloak that was more of a long, hooded shawl.

He pilfered some food from the kitchens, and that was that. Desmond left the monastery without looking back, or bothering to find Apple. The horse beneath him was more than enough for him, if not a little slower. It didn't talk back to him, or knowingly piss him off, and that was already an improvement.

The horse whinnied when Desmond urged him from a trot to a quick canter, remembering too late that the High Priest was supposed to be making him a new talisman. He didn't find it important enough to turn back around to go ask for it, already more than halfway to the nearest town.

Desmond only stopped to feed and water the horse, and even though his destination was no more than a notion, he kept going until it got late, where he paid an unknown stablemaster to put up the mare, and then bought a room at the inn. He didn't trust much of anyone, and didn't even bother to put his things in the room he paid for unless he was in there with it. So he sat by himself with the food he'd bought, listening to people talking around him.

Of the three of them Lucy was definitely enjoying their trip the most. As Mesk's chosen it wasn't often she was allowed to leave the capital, and she'd never left the country before. Daniel was enjoying it the least. Clay was… well he was Clay and Clay enjoyed most things in life regardless of what was going on. It was just sort of how he was. Troy was different then Abstergonia in a big way. Troy was so… rural. The towns were normally just small collections of buildings without even really a central area. There was no running water, there was no plumbing, there was no gas or steam or trains. There was just… nothing. What Troy did have in abundance though was farmland and livestock. Most of Abstergonia was dedicated to industrialization and mining, they imported a lot of their food.

Admittedly Lucy took a lot of things for granted. She couldn't exactly help it though. She was royalty and a prophet. Even if she'd wanted to people wouldn't have let her life be difficult. She literally had the power of a goddess rushing through her body sometimes. The most thing she'd taken for granted was a comfortable bed and an easy to get bath. Beds in Troy were… adequate, baths were time consuming and costly. Lucy missed being able to take a warm bath whenever she wanted, in a private bath or even one of the communal ones in the city.

Despite that though she was enjoying the freedom of being away from her father. Daniel being around created a similar effect, but not nearly as restrictive.

They'd stopped at a town (really Lucy was reluctant to even call it that since it was just some houses grouped together and an inn, but nothing else) for the night. Her brothers had ordered food while she went upstairs to light her daily tribute to Mesk so she didn't get jealous or annoyed with her. When she came back down she looked around at the patrons as she always did. She knew it was a long shot she'd find the man she was looking for at some inn in the middle of nowhere. But it didn't hurt to try.

She came to a dead stop on the stairs when she spied a man sitting by himself with his stuff, eating, and drinking from a tankard. There was a warhammer resting on the ground next to him, the end of the pole leaning against the back of his chair. She remembered the vision Mesk had given her of the man on the golden dragon, he'd had a war hammer. Quickly she descended the steps and found her brothers. "He's here," she told them, sitting between them.

Daniel had been staring down Warhammer Guy since he walked in. He didn't like his manners, but nor did he really like anyone's manners here in Troy. Honestly though, he wondered how a guy could swing that thing around. It looked more like an oversized meat tenderiser rather than a proper cudgel. "By any chance… the only one with the Dragon Order Sigil?" He'd noticed the design on the warhammer the moment he saw it.

Of course, Lucy had been upstairs, and he didn't really feel like giving Clay reason to open his mouth. Aside from his weird dialect, the youngest of the three never seemed to shut up once he started talking.

Desmond was used to having eyes on him, and he ignored them. Especially the ones that were trying to drill holes in him. He focused on his food, and banked on the fact that most people left a paladin, dragon knight or not, alone. The fact that he had such huge weapon was usually enough to ensure his privacy.

"Don't be a smart ass, Daniel," Lucy told her brother, giving him a look. "But yes, he's the one with the hammer, and stop staring," she smacked him lightly on the arm.

"So… what are we gonna do?" Clay asked. "Just tell him 'hi, can you come with us? If you don't the world is gonna end.' I'm sure that'll go over real well."

Lucy scowled at Clay. "You don't have to be so negative you know," she told Clay. "And… I don't know," she honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. Thinking about it though you probably just didn't tell a guy with a dragon what to do. Or just take him somewhere he didn't want to go.

Desmond waved the keep over, and asked for more to drink. And paid. He used it to glance in the direction of the more critical stare, and found three… well, foreigners. There wasn't another way to put it. No one in Troy had light hair, unless they were old, and he was pretty sure that they were more or less blonde, and not greying.

He busied himself with his food once more, and after a while, slipped out of the tavern to go to the separate part of the inn. He'd expressly asked for the room farthest from the tavern, and even though the only door was open to the air, he'd enjoy the relative quiet. Desmond berated himself for being paranoid. They were three perfect strangers, he didn't know them, and they didn't know him. And if they weren't from Troy, then it wasn't as if seeing a dragon knight was commonplace, so the staring wasn't as out of place as he wanted to believe it was.

Lucy watched him when the paladin left. "No one saw a dragon when we came in, right?" she asked. Her brothers shook their heads. "Good," and she got up.

"Where you going?" Clay asked, frowning a little.

"Don't you worry about that," she said.

"You're going to do something dumb aren't you?" Clay said.

"Just listen to your big sister and stay here," Lucy said and left them at the table and went upstairs. She got to the top of the stairs just as the paladin was going into his room and saw him vanish into it. Perfect. Quietly she walked to the end of the hallway and leaned her ear near the door. She didn't touch it though, and instead used magic to amplify the sound a bit so she could hear what he was doing.

Honestly, he wasn't doing much. Desmond shed his cloak, dropping it over the chair. Next went his bag, which leaned against Alice and the wall. He stripped, pulling something more comfortable out of the bag, and changed into it before sitting heavily on the bed. He was pretty sure that half of it was stuffed with hay, but it wasn't the worst thing he'd been given. Desmond was wary about sleep. He hadn't felt Apple since before he shut him out, and even when he opened up, he didn't feel the dragon. Bastard was probably sleeping like last time, and he stopped probing for him.

Desmond sighed forcefully, dropping his head into his hands, pulling the tie out of his hair so he could successfully rake his nails over his scalp. The only way he knew he'd be okay would be staying up. It didn't last.

Lucy grinned, great, he was going to sleep. That was perfect. She left the door and went back downstairs where her brothers were finishing up their dinner and beer. "He's asleep," she said, "So I can keep him that way for a while."

"We leaving tonight?" Clay asked, "Or in the morning?"

Daniel huffed. "So we are kidnapping a dragon knight. You put him to sleep, didn't you?" He stared at Lucy, displeasure obvious in the crease at the corner of his mouth.

"Fine, fine. I'll carry him, no need to ask. We've only three horses." He never really trusted magic. Not Lucy's black magic gifts, and not Clay's destructive battle magic. While Daniel would never admit he was jealous, he was still more solid in his belief of what he could do with his hands. He was a knight, and above that, a swordsman. None of it made him any less the black sheep of sorts - royal blood was supposed to be steeped in magic, and there he was, the eldest to the Vidic crown, and he was a complete dud.

"I did not, he fell asleep on his own," she frowned at Daniel. "I can keep people asleep, not send them to sleep, I'm not some green witch," she told her brother like he should know. Because he should. It wasn't like he hadn't been around while she'd been learning the art of black magic, not to be confused with the dark magic and taint the cultists in Troy used. Some idiot here in Troy had tried to get her killed for using 'black magic'. The paladin they'd tattled on her to had taken one look at her, asked if she used 'black' magic and then walked off and let her continue on her way.

"So I should go get the horses ready then?" Clay asked.

"Probably yes. I think it'd be better if we moved quickly so when he wakes up we'll be closer to home," really they were only a few day's travel from the border, as Troy wasn't exactly a large country, so they wouldn't have to be much of a problem to get him there. If Lucy did it right he'd only have to wake up a few times and she knew Daniel could knock someone out easy.

Daniel was still not pleased. "Alright, alright. I'll go get him," he said, and then left the inn. He didn't even have to pick the lock - guy just waltzed into his room and… fell asleep sprawled over the entire (small) bed. He looked like a strange four limbed octopus, if he'd ever seen one before. Daniel picked up the man's bag, and prodded him before hefting him to sit up. Yeah, he was out pretty good. He hadn't expected the hand grabbing for his face, and just barely managed to grab his wrist. Daniel felt his skin prickle the moment he made actual contact with him, but he pushed the unnerving feeling aside.

It was quick work to tie up his hands, and then fit the cloak over his shoulders and bag, finding it would be easier to carry him over his back. Especially if he had to drag that stupid, heavy hunk of metal around too. Daniel grunted and shouldered his weight before even attempting to pick up the warhammer. It was heavier than he expected, and that alone was enough to make him feel a tiny bit of respect.

This dragon knight guy looked pretty average, but from his weight, Daniel decided there was probably more muscle under there than a farmhand or even a blacksmith, swinging around metalworking hammers all day at unforgiving steel. What he hadn't been planning on doing was giving such a heavy guy - or any guy - a piggy-back ride, but it was the only way he could even hope to carry him.

"We need another horse. This guy is probably mostly lead," Daniel complained when Clay and the horses were in earshot.

"Seriously?" Clay complained, "You pulling my leg here? He doesn't look any bigger than you," Clay looked at their horses. It wasn't like their horses couldn't carry two people. Maybe not at a run, but they just wanted to make easy time back home, they didn't need to run. "Where the hell are we going to get another horse?" Clay asked.

"He has to have one here," Lucy said, "His dragon isn't here and he obviously didn't walk-" and she left and went to find the stable boy who was sleeping at the job. She kicked the hay he was sleeping on and he jolted away. "Which horse belongs to the Paladin?" she asked him sweetly. Sleepily the stable boy told her and she went to find it.

"So, does he?" Clay asked when Lucy came back.

"Yeap, this one," she went over to the stall holding a very obvious war horse. Next to the draft horses and the nags he seemed out of place, though you couldn't see him very well from the corridor. "We'll just lead it along behind us," she said.

"Great," Clay said sarcastically, adjusted his belt and went into the stall to get the tack.

Daniel wasn't sure how he managed to get him up on his horse. One, the war horse was pretty damn big, and two, obviously, the guy was heavy. He tied his hands to the horn of the saddle, and his legs to each respective stirrup. Part of it was to keep him on the horse rather than letting him slide off of it in his sleep. The other was to make sure he couldn't slip away without any of them noticing.

He swung up onto his own horse, calling back to Lucy, "You want to ride behind to keep an eye on him?" Daniel shifted until he was comfortable in the saddle. Really, he couldn't understand how someone could sleep so soundly though being roughly dressed, carried, and then dumped onto a horse. If he stayed asleep while they moved, he'd be very impressed.

Desmond sat more or less upright in the saddle, hair a mostly tangled mess over his face. He was still, for better or for worse, asleep. The only evidence of his nightmares was the jerky, rapid movement of his eyes behind the lids.

Lucy frowned up at the Paladin and looked at her brother when he spoke. "Sure," she said before climbing onto her own horse, a much smaller one than her brother's. But then, she was much smaller. The Paladin swayed a little in his seat and briefly she cast a dreamless sleep over him with a soft murmur. She felt a strange resistance against the spell and her brow furrowed. She cast it again but met the same block.

"Somethin' wrong?" Clay asked, taking the Paladin's horse's lead.

"I don't think so," and she spoke the spell again, more forcefully this time. This time her spell stuck to the Paladin like a hitchhiker.

"What was that?" Clay asked.

"A sleeping spell. He won't wake up till I wake him now," she said, though still found it so strange that it had taken her three casts to do it. Lucy was no common mage. Her affinity with Mesk gave her exponentially more power. Most things within the umbrella of black magic were easy for her to do. But why had such a simple sleeping spell taken so many tries? That had never happened before. "Lets go," she added to Daniel.

There had been some obvious resistance in the way Desmond's fingers twitched, but when the spell finally did wash over him, he slumped.

Daniel had seen Lucy cast this kind of spell a few times before, and it always amused him how slack they went. He didn't seem to catch, or become worried at the failed attempts, and instead, urged his horse with his thighs and heels. Of the three of them, Daniel was most suited for long, hard rides. He was used to the repetitive, jolting rhythm of a quick trot, but he'd only hold the pace as long as Clay and Lucy would stand it for.

He'd rather just set pace at a gallop across the countryside but their cargo probably wouldn't cooperate with a full throttle run - it actually took some effort to stay on a horse at top speed.

It was late when they finally stopped, the moon up and high and the town long behind them. Lucy was very nearly asleep in her saddle and while a sleeping Paladin in the saddle was what they wanted, a sleeping princess was not since tying her to the saddle wasn't exactly something any of them wanted. Clay she knew could go forever and Daniel only showed signs of weakness when he couldn't help it.

But they did stop eventually. Clay and Daniel tugged the Paladin off his horse and set him on the ground. She inspected the spell briefly, satisfied it was intact, and grabbed her bed roll. They tied the horses to a branch and Lucy wriggled into the bed roll and fell asleep quickly. She heard her brothers go to bed shortly after her.

In the morning they woke when the sun got too bright.

"You going to let him wake up?" Clay asked her as he handed her some cold breakfast. She was going to be glad to be off the road and not eat road rations every day. They all were. None of them complained though. Lucy looked over at the Paladin who was lying on his back, hands on his stomach, unbound, looking like he was dead except for the even rise and fall of his chest. "Sis, homie's probably got to piss. You don't want him pissing himself do ya?"

She made a face, "No," she agreed and said the spell so he would wake up.

Desmond actually hissed, brows drawn against the sun. He pushed himself up to sit, elbows on knees, head down between them. "This ain't a fuckin' inn. The Hell 'r you people?" No one was unlucky enough to be within arm's reach, but his fingers raked through his hair instead. Far from trying to tame it, more like he was clawing at it.

Daniel let out an amused snort. "Just listen to the manners on this guy." He got this weird feeling that made him even more uncomfortable than last night, and he actually had to make an effort not to flinch when their not-prisoner's eyes rolled up to stare at him like he knew everything. His unease was hidden behind silent snarl.

"I can explain," Lucy said quickly, and it wasn't like she didn't have a good reason. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but a good reason. Not like anyone in Troy would listen to someone from Abstergonia normally. Hence the kidnapping.

"Well, we did drag him out of bed and bring him out to the middle of nowhere," Clay told Daniel, "Homie seems right in being annoyed."

His attention flicked over to Lucy at the sound of her voice. "Oh." Desmond's brows drew together as undue recognition came to his face. His hair was pulled back from his face, and he stood up with little warning, getting a little… personally close to the royal priestess, his shadow falling over her shoes.

There were things moving in his shadow, and out of reflex, Daniel checked his own, and made to say something about it. Cold fingers over his mouth made him stop, but a glance at Clay saw similar shady, flickering shapes moving over his half brother's ankles.

Desmond didn't say anything, nor did he move to touch Lucy, but small and forceful hands seemed to hold her. They curled around her ankles constricted her chest, elbows, wrists, and covered her mouth. His smile was toothy, too white and too wide. The cold hands had been there since he came to, but they had not squeezed so tightly until now. "I know who you are, I don't need you getting in my way."

It seemed like the very ground beneath him was beginning to rot, and with it, more cold fingers grabbed and pulled from their shadows. "How so very nice of you to lock me up in there," Desmond said, tapping Lucy's forehead. "Usually Her little puppets are a lot smarter than that." Ezrakol's teeth hid behind the unnerving smile, and there was no sign that Desmond had any problems with it, or that he intended to stop. He did wrap his own fingers around Lucy's throat, not the icy little hands holding her, because he did actually risk losing his grip on Daniel and Clay if he focused any more on Lucy.

"You can take your pretty voice back, Mesk," Desmond growled, Ezrakol's manic voice to his words. The deity was more of a demon than anything, feeding from the rot of humanity. Fear, disgust, panic, malice. He was getting plenty of panic from Daniel, that was for sure.

Clay was looking from his siblings to the Paladin back and forth rapidly. He tried several times to engaged his casting but for a war mage he actually had to speak to cast and the Paladin might as well have stuffed something in his mouth because while the power was there he couldn't speak or make anything happen. He looked at Daniel and was glad to know he wasn't the only one freaking out here.

Lucy reached up and grabbed the hand around her neck. Whatever was doing this wasn't the man Mesk had sent her to find. She had no idea who it was, but it wasn't a man. She couldn't speak, he was keeping her silent, meaning she was more or less helpless. She opened her mouth to try and say something but nothing came out. The hand tightened around her throat and she felt herself go abruptly limp, nearly hanging from his fingers.

"Get out of him Ezrakol," Mesk said, her husky voice overlaying Lucy's, standing on her own power once more. "Don't make me come over there and whoop your ass little boy, cause I will. You're not strong enough to stop me yet," and Lucy grabbed the hand around her throat and very deliberately pulled it off her and held it in front of the Paladin though he seemed to want to go for her throat again. "You get out of him and stay away from him, or we'll have words. And you don't want to have words with a graveyard goddess."

Desmond snarled, and all of the tiny hands squeezed. "So you can take him from me? So my next vessel will be destroyed?" He shook his head, shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. He broke his hand out of Lucy's grip, looking more annoyed than angry. So close, he'd been so close to getting rid of the pesky Priestess, but of course, Mesk had to notice. Rotting her would be too easy, nor would it work with how steeped in magic she was.

Ezrakol beat a hasty retreat, preferring to leave a splinter he could refresh later rather than deal with Mesk. Besides, he'd already done what he had planned originally, there was really nothing more for him to do. He let Desmond fall to his knees, shaking as the cold touches lifted. Desmond nearly immediately threw up a thick, dark, almost purple tar. Until Daniel grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, and the rest dripped from his mouth.

He didn't even have the strength to bat at Daniel's arm. "Le' go," Desmond grumbled, wishing he could feel his arms and legs. He felt cold, numb, and absolutely horrible. The sharp pain in his chest was more an irritant than an actual problem, and he didn't really understand the majority of this stranger's interrogation.

Daniel spat an equal number of threats as he demanded answers to questions, voice a touch raw. He still hadn't shaken the chill from his spine, but he seized his chance in the Paladin's weakness the moment he saw it. Now, the guy's blank, vaguely confused expression served to piss him off. He pinned his arms back in a way he knew hurt like hell. "You listening now?" He asked, tone acidic. Daniel didn't like the wet grunt he got in response.

When Mesk left her Lucy swayed and had a terrible headache. She felt someone grab her arm, stabilizing her and saw it was Clay. "You cool?" Clay asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him and he let her go, but stayed near. Then she saw what Daniel was doing and the poor man looked like the first time Mesk had ever taken control of her. As it was she could smell dirt and burning bones still, a sign that Mesk had come and gone since sometimes she barely even noticed. "Daniel, let him go," but Daniel wasn't listening.

"Daniel," she said, louder this time, but he didn't hear her. She marched over to the crown prince and shoved him right in the chest with a magical thrust. "I said, let him go," and Daniel was forced to take a step back, releasing the Paladin from his grip. "He didn't do anything," it was her mistake. She'd done… something, she wasn't quite sure what though.

"Lucy, you did see what he just did right?" Clay asked, hovering a bit, ready to grab her as she knelt in front of the Paladin.

"It's not his fault," she said, not minding as she got her nice clothes dirty. She used her sleeve to wipe the gross tar off the side of his mouth. "Hey," she said, speaking soothingly, the man looked exhausted not even really all there. "Are you with us?" she asked and put a hand on his shoulder. Had one of them been a green or white mage she'd know what was wrong with him in an instant of just someone testing him. But she was a black witch. She couldn't figure out what was wrong without asking, and even if she knew she might not be able to help anyway.

His eyes focused on Lucy when she wiped his face. Desmond shrugged with one shoulder, which he couldn't move very far. "No. I mean, probably." He sounded like utter crap, the feeling still hadn't gotten back into his limbs, and everything smelled and tasted like bile. Rotten, festering bile. Desmond was aware enough to actually look at his surroundings, and the roughly circular pattern of dead plants around him was curious, if not concerning.

Daniel scowled at Lucy, stumbling. He regained his balance and backed off, glaring at all of them. Magical little assholes. His sister, his brother, this asshole, all of them.

"What's your name?" she asked him, speaking precisely, she remembered the first time Mesk had taken control of her, she'd barely known who she was or what had happened and then slept it off, only waking when her mind could handle it. Now of course Mesk came and went whenever she wanted and Lucy barely noticed, more inconvenienced by the goddess than anything. "Do you know what country you're in?"

Desmond blinked, eyes clearing somewhat. "Des… mond. I… Troy." He frowned, then winced, hissing. He pressed his hand against his chest, feeling like he couldn't breathe for a few moments. At least he could move on his own. Kind of. He was groping blindly for Apple through the mental link, and that was the extent of his lucidity, pitching forward into Lucy's chest.

"Desmond?" Lucy asked and then he fell forward.

"Hey!" Clay cried out because extensively Desmond had just face planted into her breasts.

"Oh quiet," Lucy said, "He's asleep," but she could see her brothers didn't like it so she pushed him back up to sit and frowned. "Well, he's asleep, and he'll probably be asleep for a while. We shouldn't stay here. Whatever was in him-

"Ezrakol," Clay provided.

"Ezrakol," she nodded, "is following him, it's what I felt when I tried to send him to sleep last night. The faster we get him to Abstergonia and I can erect a ward for him to keep Ezrakol out, the better."

"Okay, but I vote his hands don't come untied until then. Because fuck that he nearly killed you. He would have if Mesk hadn't shown up," Clay said.

Daniel huffed. "Like tying him up will do anything," he grumbled, though tying the guy up was something he could definitely get behind. "And I hate relying on all of that crap." He was already tying Desmond up, deciding that he trusted this guy less than he trusted Mesk.

Miles away Apple was awake. He'd given Desmond a day to get over his annoying hissy fit about Apple pushing him too far, but now time had passed, his rider had no doubt cooled down and he was going to go find him, and bring him a new talisman that the High Priest had made.

Rashid had just given him the talisman when he felt it. His tail twitched. He felt Desmond grasp toward him mentally like he was trying to keep hold on a cliff. The bond was faint at this distance and Desmond was weak. Apple was instantly fully present within the bond to find out what the hell was wrong.

Apple roared, startling everyone in the courtyard with the sudden noise and he leaped into the sky, throwing out his wings and flying as fast as he could towards where Desmond was. Something had hurt his rider. He was going to tear whoever had to _pieces_.


End file.
